Running With The Wolves
by LunaMarr
Summary: Civil war is raging, and the land of Skyrim burns with chaos and defeat. Cities are destroyed and children orphaned. And among all the destruction, arise the dragons, noblest of all creatures to smite the petty humans from the face of Tamriel. No one can stop them, no one can hope to save the people of Nirn. No one, except one, and her name is Tulip. Gods help us all. OcXVilkas
1. A Rocky Start

If you've played Skyrim and done the Companions; then I'm sure you know who Farkas and Vilkas are. I adore those two, Farkas is a big softie, and Vilkas is…well Vilkas. Relationship wise, I chose Vilkas over Farkas because he seemed like he'd be harder to win over than his super friendly brother. And I do adore challenges :)

Filler Info: The protagonist is female imperial, grey eyes, Wavy Black hair, small build, super light skin, and all around looks very fragile, even for her race. (I made her that way for contrast, considering **SPOILER ALERT **that the Companions are super strong werewolves). Oh and her name is…Tulip. ಠ_ಠ Yeaaahh. Don't ask…Please…

As nice as it would be to say I was rich and owned Bethesda, I do not.

Skyrim=Bethesda.

~O~

The fresh tang of coppery blood weighed heavy in the air as Tulip was kicked fiercely against the wooden block. The captain, a redguard woman, grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her head to the sticky surface. Dazed, Tulip let her head rest against the wood, fresh blood absorbing into her dark hair. Her stomach churned uncomfortably as her eyes meet those of the head before her. Glassy, and pale blue, the twin orbs laughed at her, the beheaded man's hair lifting in the wind. Behind the executioner, the man the other Imperials called Hadvar watched on guiltily, his eyes turning away when she met them. So this was it then. The end. She hadn't imagined it this way, Skyrim was supposed to be the land of opportunity, a place safe from the wars that ravaged and burned the picturesque lands of Cyrodiil. She'd been surprised to see that Skyrim was plagued by violence and war more brutal and deceptive than those of Cyrodiil, in Skyrim, even citizens were enemies, neighbors turned on neighbors and Nord children froze and starved in the streets as their families were slaughtered in the war. But that would all end soon enough, and maybe Mara, or even Akatosh would take her now. She gave a small smile at the thought, and closed her eyes as she heard the executioner release a grunt and raise his blade.

"**RAAARRRGGGGARRRR!"**

Tulips eyes snapped open and her body was knocked sideways by a huge blast of air. A large obsidian dragon towered above them, the executioner's body barely visible from the massive creature's teeth. A scream erupted from its mouth but was cut off in a horrible scissor like motion of the monster's jaw. Spitting out several splintered bones, the dragon turned its attention to her, their eyes locking. She felt herself being sucked into those blood red pools, and inside she felt something inside her spark into life. Before she could snap out of her reverie the dragon roared, and a strong blast of wind and magicka sent Tulip spiraling. Feeling like her eyes were spinning in their sockets, she felt a strong hand grasp her arm firmly.

"Come on, we have to get to safety!" the man bolted for "safety", dragging her behind him with the dragon flying overhead. They dove inside a large stone watch tower, behind the safety of thick stone just as a surge of fire scorched the wooden door frame. Already several men and women had taken shelter inside, some sporting bloody and cauterized wounds. The building creaked, the wooden support beams bending dangerously.

"Quickly, let's get to the top and out before this whole tower crumbles!" two hardy looking nords shouted to each other.

"They've got the right idea!" Her current companion shouted to her, his tangled blonde hair dyed crimson with blood in several places; whether it was his or not, she didn't want to know. The pair sprinted up the stairs after the two men, the building creaking loudly at the dragon's onslaught. The two froze, in the midst of the stair in horror at the sight before them. The two nord's bloodcurdling screams were drowned out with a roar, and boulder sized rocks flew as the dragon flew headfirst into the tower wall, a torrent of molten fire burned through them, blinding Tulip's eyes. The dragon, distracted by new prey, pushed away from the building with a roar nearly loud enough to mask the sound of the towers stone bricks cracking. The force of the dragon pushing off was too great, and now the tower swayed, cracks resonating as horrific realization sunk in.

**The tower was crumbling. With them still inside.**

The heavy blocks began to give way, the staircase crumbling underneath their feet. "RUN!" the man shouted, and the two scrambled up the stairs in a race against time. The two sprinted for a window, their last hope for survival as adrenaline pumped through their veins.

"**JUMP! JUMP FOR YOUR LIFE!" **Tulip felt a strong hand shove the small of her back, pushing her out the window, she heard the man leap from the building, just before the structure gave out and fell to the ground. Tulip hit a wooden rafter of a nearby roof, and she hit it hard. The air knocked out of her body, she clung to the rafter, desperately looking about for the Nord man. He had unsheathed a short sword and was currently running towards town square, shouting orders at several Stormcloak men. An ear bursting shriek was heard throughout the town as the dragon caught sight of her and dived for the kill.

"Gods no….!" Tulip cried, but in vain. The dragon wrenched open its jaws and the roof was engulfed in a fiery inferno. Tulip dropped through the crispy straw roof, barely escaping the beast's flame, only to be fall into a heat trap. The room was filled with smoke, and Tulip's eyes watered painfully. She coughed, trying to clear her lungs of the all but impregnable smoke. Tumultuous black blinded her, billowing about like the dark wings of the dragon. She caught sight of an exit in the form of an open doorway, a beautiful ray of perfect white sunlight pushing through the blackness, and she ran, heart pounding as the temperature increased. Pieces of the building randomly gave way about her, and she ran faster, eager to escape the doomed room. She was a within a mere 7 feet of the exit when a particularly large rafter gave way, blocking the doorway in a wall of fire. She fell to the ground, eyes watering painfully as she coughed, crawling to a corner of the building. The building gave way around her, burying her body in smoke and wood.

"**Can't breathe...can't…see****…someone…****helppp****…" she wheezed in one last breath, before the world went black.**

**~O~**

Aela scouted ahead, arrow drawn and at the ready.

"You heard the man! Ulfric told us to kill any imperials we may find, and collect any Stormcloack bodies left! Get moving!" Vilkas nodded in recognition, and cautiously entered the stone archway. When the Companions had gained word of the attack on Helgan, several members of The Circle immediately set out to check for survivors. So when they were intercepted by a courier, sent by none other than Ulfric Stormcloack, there was a great deal of surprise. The courier explained that his master, leader of the famous Stormcloaks, wished for them to break any endeavors they may be pursuing and redirect their course to Helgan to search for survivors. He explained that any survivors or fallen Stormcloacks were to be brought back immediately, while any imperials were to be killed. Since the group was already going to check for survivors anyway, they saw no problem with gaining some coin from the venture. They had arrived only a few hours after the attack had occurred, and smoke still filled the air above the town. Tying their horses, the trio unsheathed their swords, listening for any signs of the dragon being nearby. When all was silent, they slowly re-sheathed them, troubled slightly by such extreme silence. Vilkas inhaled deeply, trying to sniff out any other smell besides burning wood and cauterized flesh. A snort behind him announced the presence of his twin brother, Farkas.

"The air reeks here, we can't sniff out a thing." He stated quietly, gruffly pointing out the obvious.

"I know." Vilkas shifted, his Nordic accent ringing in the silence. Along with Farkas's help he pulled several rafters aside, reaching into the mass to check for a pulse on a fallen nordic man.

"Farkas! Get over here and help me lift these boulders!" Aela's voice sounded through the town. In a moment his brother shifted, transforming into a shadow of brown black fur that disappeared with a swirl of black smoke. With a grunt Vilkas lifted the man along with a burned pile of flesh that was buried under the debris, throwing one over each other and laying the men side by side in the square. He searched what was left of a "standing" building, and his brown eyes darkened at the sight. The room was nothing but charred wood, the roof gone and part of the wall smashed. What might have once been a table, or a wardrobe was thrown across the floor, and just behind a tanned hand hung. He crossed the room in stride, his boots causing black soot to rise from the floorboards. With a swift yank he threw the wood away, a piece braking off in his fist. Vilkas felt his inner wolf grow furious at the scene, and a growl unintentionally ripped itself from his lips. Underneath the wood lay a boy's body, perfectly preserved save for the dagger deep claw marks that raked across his abdomen. He kneeled, pushing the thick brown locks from his from the child's face, before solemnly closing the glazed orbs. Gritting his teeth, he scooped the child into his arms, cradling his torn body to his chest.

_If I find that monster…I __**will**__ kill it." _He promised himself. Gently, he laid the child's body amongst the others, and reluctantly returned to his search. He approached the smoldering remains of what once might have been a house, afraid of what else he might find. Pushing aside the remains of a straw thatch, he caught sight of a small, pale hand hanging limply over a wooden support beam. Eyes wide, Vilkas felt about the wrist for a pulse, holding his breath as he waited for the soft twang of life.

…thump…

…tha thump…

..THA THUMP…

**THA THUMP.**

Shoving the crisp wood aside, Vilkas dug desperately into the debris, lifting a heavy rafter from amongst the wreckage revealing a small imperial woman. She was deathly pale, and soot and a few cuts marred her milkdrinker skin. Blood was smeared across the right side of her face, and surprisingly it did not appear to be hers.

_She was an Imperial._

Vilkas paused, as he considered his options, the first and probably least consequential, he could follow his orders and kill her for being an imperial. Yet, she didn't look like any officer Vilkas had ever seen, she lacked muscle that most soldiers possessed, and she wore no armor or carried any weapon. Just a bystander. Vilkas cursed, and spat as if something vile had entered his mouth-

Kneeling down, Vilkas pulled a green vial from his satchel, the contents simmering quietly. Gently, he tilted her head back and poured the contents through her parted lips. She murmured quietly, and he knew that she could hear him as the healing vial dragged her back to semi-consciousness.

_ "I cannot disobey my orders, nor can I just leave you here to die. If you survive, than you are strong and you may seek us out. If not, than may Talos bless you and keep you."_

Tulip listened to these last words, forcing her eyes to open a fraction of the way to try to catch a glimpse of the man. All she managed to see was a pair of hauntingly blue eyes, and the followed her into the darkness.

~O~

:D YAY! Chapter 1, check! What do you think?

Some mistakes in there I'm sure…


	2. Call of Aid

Enjoy, and if you have a moment, **to those who have already reviewed**, thank you very much! I appreciate it!

-_Cowers in the corner_- Hey guys, long time no see _eh_? I would say that life has been rough, but I doubt any excuse would cover my tail for being absent for so long. =_= I have edited the first chapter (it was rather bad if I do say so myself), and finally posted this bad boy that's been sitting on my desk top for roughly a year. (After some more editing)

I fully expect and embrace the flames I will no doubt probably receive.

BURN AWAY!

Edit: Tulip is such a Mary-Sue. Anyone have the antidote?

~O~

Tulip resurfaced to consciousness, and after a quick check of her body she was surprised to find that the bruises and cuts she had expected to find were not present. She pulled herself from the wreckage of burnt wood and stretched, several pops following suite. Wearily she walked back onto the small cobblestone road, keeping her eyes open for any sign of the dragon. In the square a pile of wood was smoking away, and she caught sight of a charred bone sticking out from the ashes. An invisible shadow gripped her heart. Someone had been here, that explained why there were no bodies in the street. Yes…she could remember voices…she struggled to remember, a nagging memory trying to pull itself from a darkened corner in her mind, but none came. She frowned to herself, and began rummaging through several piles of stone and wood, searching for anything that could be of use. Her fingers brushed something leather, and with a heave retrieved it along with its contents from out of the debris. It was an imperial messenger's bag, covered in soot and burned at the edges. Holding the bag away from herself before shaking it off, she undid the leather tie and quickly poured out the contents. Several gold coins tinkled against the cobblestone, along with a miniscule bottle full of a rich red liquid, and a rolled piece of paper slid from the bag to the ground. Unrolling it she was pleasantly surprised to find a map.

"What luck…" she mumbled, and unrolling the map onto the ground she weighted the corners with the coins. Pursing her lips with concentration, it took her a moment to find Helgan. A lightly sketched charcoal drawing depicted the town, a tiny hamlet compared with the highly detailed emblems of Windhelm and Whiterun. With a snort she smudged the town until only a black blur remained against the stained parchment. That's all that was really left anyways. She paused in her musings when several clucks filled the air, and much to her amusement a chicken pushed itself from under several crates, completely unscathed save for a few ruffled feathers. The creature puffed out its chest with indignation, then eyed her for a moment before deciding to settle its hind quarters on the satchel. Tulip went to reach for her bag angrily when the creature lifted itself up, flapping angry wings and attempted to peck her very hand off with a cruel beak.

"Fine, keep it for all I care!" With a huff Tulip scooped the coins from the map, having found the nearest town; a place called Riverwood, and rolled the paper into a tight scroll. Shoving the coins into her ragged shoes and the map into the rope that served as a belt, she turned to leave. The cobblestone road was a little worse for wear, but still visible enough that she could tell which direction she should go in. The sun was setting, and as the sky was burned a vivid crimson as a cool breeze sliced though her shabby clothing. She rubbed her arms absentmindedly, annoyed with herself. She was no criminal, no _prisoner_, she'd only wanted to cross into Skyrim to escape the wars that plagued Cyrodiil, and before she'd had time to react she found herself amidst a group of fleeing men, _nordic_ men she might add, and then there had been a surge of pain against her skull and when she awoke she was strapped in a cart minus her bag and plus a ragged set of beggars clothes. Glancing at her new garb she released a sigh, watching as her breath became a pale gust of white air. She missed her dress, not only for the warmth it offered but for its modesty as well. This thought struck her with much frustration as she took in the various holes and the sheer largeness of the attire, to say simply it hung on her like a potato sack (which it was probably fashioned from) and its sides revealed a certain undergarment that she would have liked to have remain hidden. With a shiver she continued on the along the beaten road, eyeing the ground with determination, when a curious cluck made her glance backward. The hen had started after her, cocking its head to the side (no pun intended) and with a ruffling of its feathers it gave another cluck.

"_And where do you think you're going?"_

Tulip raised an eyebrow, turning fully around and gave the creature a hard stare, her conscience arguing with her annoyance. The hen would surely die if left alone, she doubted it would survive a few hours with the scavengers that would surely come to investigate the burned town. Images of an overly aggressive chicken trying to outrun a pack of wolves filled her mind. With a sigh she approached the hen, waiting for it to rear up and challenge her for dominance, but was surprised when the creature relented, curling its feet into the soft down of its underbelly and tucking itself into her side. She stroked its head gently, and the hen released a chirpy coo, signaling its defeat. There would be no more fight from this creature tonight. With one hand she scooped up the bag and swung it across her shoulder, and placing the trinkets she had found within she allowed the hen to settle within the vacated bag, the only visible giveaway was its head, with it kept poked out from under the flap. If she came across any bandits tonight maybe she could distract them long enough to throw the creature in their faces. After seeing its frightening display of prowess she wouldn't be surprised if it won.

Then again she did enjoy a good egg in the morning.

As she neared the gate of the town Tulip kept her eyes to the sky, watching for the dragon while taking in the few standing monuments. With a gentle push the gate to Helgan swung open and Tulip tentatively stepped out of the safety of the wall. A curious cluck pushed her forward, and she walked out and onto the road, waiting for a wolf or a bear to suddenly appear and devour her whole. When no such feat occurred she continued feeling slightly more confident and nearly made it a whole foot past the brick wall before Kinerath decided to give her a hand. Suddenly a scream pierced the air and a beastly white blur charged past Tulip, rearing up and causing her to fall onto her back. She held her hands up in surprise as the beast beat the air and she released a cry of surprise and fear. A frantic nicker caused her to roll from under the beast's onslaught and she stumbled to rise to her feat, her mind working like a sieve and a set of furious clucks coming from her bag.

"STOP!" she screamed, and the creature stilled, still dancing from foot to foot and watching her with wide eyes. It was a horse. More specifically it was a Cyrodiillic mare. Despite having little knowledge of the various horses that wandered Tamriel Tulip now knew the difference between the horses of Skyrim and those of Cyrodiil. The Nordic creatures were far larger and thicker than those back home, their muscular bodies covered in thick fur all the way down to their hooves. The horses of Cyrodil were thin, graceful creatures, and generally appeared to be far faster. The mare was nearly all white, with splashes of grey across its hooves and freckled about its rump. An Imperial saddle completed the look, and Tulip recognized the horse as that of General Tulius. Reaching for the horses face she stroked it gently, thankful for whatever had sent it her way. The magnificent beast calmed and she reached for its saddle, pulling off the obvious Imperial insignias and straps. She didn't want any Stormcloak's to think her an Imperial, and she didn't want the Imperials to think she stole their General's horse. With much effort she pulled herself onto the horse's back, surveying the sky with a nod. It was completely dark now, and thousands of stars littered the sky. Turning her attention back to the road she could see the firebugs that lit the air and she pushed the horse forward, its head remained close to the ground and its tail swishing nervously. The movement in her bag settled and a tiny angry head peaked out to observe the newest development. With a cluck of approval the hen settled back into the bag and stilled, possible going to sleep. Tulip clutched the reins in her hand tightly at first, lacking the experience to know the correct way to ride. She fingered her braid, so long that on the saddle it touched her hip, and began to relax. The horse seemed to need little instruction to keep to the road and as they progressed the sound of water could be heard.

Tulip paused when they meet the river, holding the horse's reins tightly in her grip and leading it down the bank. She tied the reins to a nearby log and stroked its back as it drank, even letting the hen from her bag to stretch its legs and quench its thirst. She did her best to rid her hands of dirt and soot, but found nothing less than a bar of soap and a scrub brush would get them clean. With a sigh she gathered her supplies, placing the hen in her bag and climbing onto the horses back. Directing the animal back to the road she kicked her heels gently, pushing her into a trot. In the distance she heard a howl, and with another soft prod she progressed into a gallop. Where there was one wolf, there was a pack. The trees gradually became thinner, and with the moon well lit in the sky Tulip finally neared the gate of Riverwood. Covered in soot and wearing nothing but scraps she became self-conscious, wrapping her arms around her chest. At least no one in the darkness could see her cheeks, like bright red apples, or the small head the stuck from her bag. They'd probably think her crazy at the sight. She passed the great stone wall slowly, taking in the village with a feeling of coziness. The buildings were different than Cyrodil, rustic cabins spaced at random and livestock wondered freely, and the sound of people in their homes were faint but comforting. A rhythmic _ting _brought her attention to the left, where a nord man sat beating away at a forge. She dismounted quietly, tying her horse to the front railing and climbing the stairs to the small workshop. She observed his motions with interest before remembering her manners.

"Excuse me." He glanced up knowingly before blinking in surprise at the sight of her. Tulip unconsciously smoothed her hair. She couldn't look that bad, could she?

"My word child, what happened to you?" he stood and rubbed each of her arms, much like one did with a child who was cold. His deep accent warmed her, despite her recently earned dislike of Nord men. There was something kind about him, and she couldn't help but be reminded of her own late father.

"I was at Helgan," she didn't dare tell him she had been moments from execution, "and it's going to sound crazy, but I swear by the nin-eight that a dragon attacked!" She saw recognition flash in the man's eyes before she continued. "You wouldn't happen to know where an inn is would you?" He inhaled deeply and gazed at her pointedly before replying.

"I think you'd better come with me." She allowed him to lead her inside, and she relaxed as she entered the warm room. A fire roared away against the wall and without thinking Tulip flinched at the sight. The motion went unnoticed by the man and leading her to a small wooden table he called to his wife.

"Sigrid, we have company!" The shuffling of small feet was heard and the tousled brown hair of a young girl appeared, followed closely by that of a beautiful red head. She gazed out from kind eyes and immediately went to the shelf to grab several ingredients. In moments a stew was boiling away over the fire.

"So what's your name hon?" Sigrid continued stirring the stew, every now and then pausing to add in a few spices or potatoes. Tulip inhaled the smell of venison and vegetables and felt her stomach grumble, and turned herself on the seat before replying.

"It's a little…impromptu." Tulip felt her cheeks turn a shade of pink in the darkness of the room, thankful for the red lighting of the fire. She felt the eyes of the woman's husband, Alvor, and the curious gaze of their child Dorthe from the bed.

"Oh really? It can't be too bad," she threw Tulip a glance, "speaking of which, do you have a change of clothes in that bag of yours? That set you're wearing looks like its seen better days." Tulip felt herself stiffen in surprise before shaking her head.

"No, but I could use it as payment for your kindness," she opened the flap and revealed the fat hen, its plush feathers ruffling slightly. "It's not much but I only have a few septims." She decided against the idea of trading her horse, but was willing to offer anything else in her possession in return for their kindness. Alvor waved her offer away with one hand, the other wrapped around a pint of juniper berry mead.

"There is no need; I actually had a favor to ask of you, and some questions. Your aid would be more than enough." His thickly accented voice was apologetic, as if he had been underhanded in opening his home to her. Tulip nodded and finally decided it was now or never and whispered her answer to Sigrid's earlier question.

"My names Tulip." The reaction she received was exactly as she expected, and she heard Alvor's chuckle, stifled by a tankard full of mead, she watched Dorthe grip her sides as she giggled her way off the bed, and Sigrid's muffled snort as she attempted to appear polite. She had seen it all before, and it hardly fazed her now. Her name had been the town joke back home, and had been enough to ward off any suitor that may have claimed her otherwise. She supposed she couldn't blame them, what man had the gall to tell his drinking companions his wife was named after a flower and not feel ridiculous? That's why the women of Skyrim had such powerful names, names that could be respected. She was just cut out of the loop.

"T-that's…" Sigrid paused to calm her chuckling, and poured several bowls of stew for the group. "That's a fine name. You should be proud of it." She slid the satchel from Tulips arm and pulled out the hen, before proceeding to place the creature outside with their own chickens. She sat next to her child, stroking Dorthe's hair before she began to eat. Tulip shoveled down several spoonful's before her thoughts became puzzling.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude but…I didn't exactly expect you to believe me. About the dragon and all." Alvor smiled at her sincerity, and with a fatherly nod he elaborated.

"Under normal circumstances, I might have had trouble believing you." She was thankful for his honesty, and waited patiently for him to continue. "However, couple o' hours before you arrived my nephew, Hadvar, came into town saying the same thing. He could only stay long enough to give me the gist of the details, but from what I understand Helgan is nothing more than a pile of ash and charcoal." He frowned grimly at the thought. "Been keeping Sigrid and Dorthe here inside after hearing that. Stayed out on that porch to see if I could keep an eye on things."

Tulip nodded, and though it certainly wasn't her problem she was about to make it hers. This family had been good to her, and now she wanted to pay them back.

"Is there anything I can do to help? I noticed the town has no guards, I could ask around for volunt-" Alvor grinned, cutting her off before she could continue.

"Yes, there is! I would go myself, but I can't leave Sigrid and Dorthe to fend for themselves. Go to Whiterun, speak to the Jarl and tell him you were at Helgan. Tell him Riverwood needs protection, we can't fight off a dragon on our own if one were to come around." His thick accent spilled over his words, and she could feel his anxiety for his family hidden underneath his words. She didn't want to see this little hamlet reduced to a pile of ash, but she hadn't expected to be sent on a trip either. She inhaled, and with one look at the tiny child scooping stew into her mouth she knew he had her skewered. She couldn't go anywhere until she helped them.

"Alright. I'll go to Whiterun. When should I leave?" Alvor nodded thankfully, and she could see him balancing hospitality and the urgency of the situation in his head.

"By sunset tomorrow you should be on your way. I'll give you some gold so you can stop by Lorcan's and get supplies." She opened her mouth to object but he waved her off, settling his arms on the table before spooning the stew into his mouth. She turned back to her soup and finished it in minutes, the hot substance running thickly down her throat. It had been awhile since she had anything so delicious, and she voiced her thoughts to Sigrid. The female smiled, and offered to give her the recipe. Tulip didn't bother to tell her she was a horrible cook.

They finished their meals and Dorthe retired to bed, laying on her stomach and snoring softly, while her father returned to the forge on the porch. Tulip gathered the dishware from the table and helped Sigrid wash them, continuing even when she left to put a cauldron of water by the fire. When the dishes were finished Alvor finally came in and collapsed onto their shared bed, throwing a small smile at his wife before dosing off. With everyone else asleep, Sigrid grabbed a rag from the counter and emptied the basin of its water. Grabbing the cauldron from the fire she herded Tulip downstairs, filling a large wooden tub with the steamy water. Doing all this with a motherly grace that made Tulip feel at home, she pulled a worn dress from a drawer and offered it to her.

"Here. It's not much, but I figure you'd like something to change into after your bath." Tulip nodded thankfully, inwardly thanking the gods for Nord hospitality. She quickly undressed behind a wooden screen before hurriedly sinking into the scorching water, wincing at its heat. Sigrid handed her the rag from earlier, and dipped a bar of soap into the water before working on Tulip's hair. Tulip pulled her knees to her torso, feeling embarrassed despite the circumstances. It wasn't unusual to help wash someone else, but she felt shy nonetheless. She recalled in Cyrodiil seeing mothers wash their children in small metal tubs and the like, and it seemed no different in Skyrim. Slowly she relaxed as the water cooled to a more tepid warmth, and feeling comfortable she began working on scrubbing the filth from her knees and legs. When Sigrid finished scrubbing her hair she plugged her nose and sunk under the water, letting it penetrate into her ears and work its way under her squinted eyelids. It felt good, and she came up with a gasp of breath and rubbing the water from her face. Her hair was like black silk, coiling on the surface of the water like crippled shadows, and she could see the color of her pale stomach through the water. Sigrid was making her a bed, laying several furs over a long wooden chair that resided in the corner of the room. She folded a wolf's hide several times until it formed a plush pillow for her head to rest.

Tulip dried off quickly and changed into the tunic Sigrid had given her, finger combing her hair. She watched the woman move about the room with feminine grace, and felt a pang of envy. She was lovely, her hair straight and a brilliant red, her eyes surrounded with dark lashes and curves Tulip could only wish for. Without realizing it she spoke her thoughts aloud.

"You're beautiful. I wish I looked like you." The woman turned to her, an eyebrow raised with surprise. She gave her a knowing smile and shook her head, and Tulip felt a heat of embarrassment rise in her face and ears. Sigrid glanced over at the shrimp of a woman, her beauty uncongenial and strange compared to the norm of Skryim. She was small, like many Imperial woman, but even when compared to the few Imperials she had meet she knew this girl would shrink in comparison. She was pale as could be and thin as an imp, with a delicate curve few men could appreciate. Her hair was long, so long the ends reached her hip in gentle waves, and if it were shorter it might have gained some curl. She had a small face that narrowed to an equally small chin, and large round eyes that were a cool grey. She wasn't conventionally beautiful, but after being the mother to her own daughter, Sigrid couldn't look at another girl without feeling a motherly protectiveness fill her, and she patted the girls shoulder.

"You're beautiful, and one day you'll find a man brave enough to tell you that and mean it." She remembered the first time Alvor had called her that. She left her alone after that, climbing into bed next to her husband as Tulip settled into a fitful sleep downstairs.

Dragons rose in her dreams, burning the sky into a screaming haze while a wolf lunged for her throat.

~O~

Firstly, I don't know about you, but I've wished that I looked like other people before, but hey, we're all beautiful just the way we are.

Secondly, that chicken thing, was completely on impulse.

Thirdly, Thanks to anyone who voted on my profile for this story, that along with a glance at this stories' reviews made me sit down and edit this darn thing so it could be posted.


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